


Brothers

by WritLarge



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, John meets Jason pre-TDKR, TDKR AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 17:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14266164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritLarge/pseuds/WritLarge





	1. Jason

John was the closest thing to a brother Jason had ever had and wasn’t that a kick in the head - that a charity visit once or twice a week from a teenage boy would mean so much? But it did. Jason knew it was because of the church and the orphanage, where he was never ever going because wasn’t an orphan, and that Father Reilly and his changing helpers visited a few homes. Usually ones with kids being raised by other kids and... well. Jason wasn't stupid. He knew his mom had some problems. But they were doing all right.

John always came to their place though, and he didn’t push. Jason liked that. John smiled and he helped. And sometimes, when he caught someone picking on the younger kids, or someone tried to steal something from the care packages, this look would cross his face. Fierce and stormy, Jason thought. Rage. Not just angry and bitter like his Dad used to get. John wasn’t dark. No, John would light up, righteous and red, a protector. 

Jason would sometimes lie awake at night and imagine what it would be like, living somewhere else, somewhere safe and clean just him, his mom, and John. Like a real family.

When Jason heard about Batman beating the hell out of the gangs he had two thoughts. The first was that they had it coming. His Dad had worked for one of the Families and was in prison. Jason hoped he never got out. The second was that John would be an awesome Batman. He’d know who to help and who to hurt. Not like the useless cops that harassed the locals and did nothing but help themselves.

John did have one thing in common with the cops though. He clearly had informants. Is wasn’t even an hour after Jason realized that his mom was dead and one of the neighbours had discovered him crying that John was there, pulling him away, holding him. Jason didn’t remember much of that day. John was there with him in the apartment, bent over his mother’s corpse, and then suddenly they were sitting in a kitchen, Father Reilly’s hand on Jason’s shoulder while he urged him to eat. In the weeks that followed, there were sour-faced cops and overly sympathetic caseworkers that drove Jason into outbursts of rage and grief with their unending questions. Father Reilly always stepped in and sent him to John. John who helped him to grieve, helped him to hide his rage, helped him to tell the cops, and the caseworkers, and anyone else who asked what they wanted to hear so they’d leave him alone.

It was John who gave him his first St. Swithin’s sweatshirt. A hand me down that no longer fit John and was oversized enough on Jason that he could burrow into it and feel wrapped up in the imagined warmth of John. It turned out that Jason was an orphan after all. Dad had been killed in prison. Not that it would have made any difference, because he wouldn’t have gotten out, and Jason wouldn’t have gone with him if he had, and he didn’t care. Jason was glad his Dad was dead. He was.

John was really upset when Batman vanished. Jason knew it was bullshit. Dumb cops and lawyers. Even if Batman had killed Harvey Dent, Jason bet he’d had a good reason. It was months later when he was ranting about it, tucked in John's room one night, that the older boy confessed.

John knew who Batman was.

“We have to go talk to him.” Bruce Wayne! Jason had met him when he visited. He’d met the Batman!

“No, Jay. It’s his secret.”

“Hell with that! We need Batman.”

“You know what the cops would do to him-”

“Fuck the cops!”

“Jay!”

“So what, they hate the Batman? He’s got, like, a million billion dollars. He could make a different suit or go invisible or...something! He could do something.” He would, Jason was sure of it.

"No, okay? We can't," John shoved a hand in his hair and shook his head. “We just can’t.”

John shushed him to sleep then, ending the discussion, and Jay let it go. He'd change his mind eventually. John looked up to Batman too and of course he'd want to meet him. It was just a matter of time. 

In the end, it only took Jason two weeks to wear him down.


	2. John

Batman. They were going to see Batman. John was maybe, a little, completely terrified. 

Technically, they’d be seeing Bruce Wayne, but it was the same thing. Bruce Wayne was the Batman. John had felt it in his bones the first time they’d met.

Jason was practically bouncing alongside him, buoyed by their “mission”. Christ, he was still so young. Determined. Like he couldn’t imagine the thousands of ways this could go horribly wrong. John could. Batman was amazing, but that didn’t mean he wanted a couple of scruffy teenagers showing up on his doorstep to potentially blackmail him into being Batman again because John had figured out his secret.

Somehow Jay, usually pessimistic and distrustful, thought Batman would understand. That Batman would see it their way. That Bruce Wayne, despite being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, was actually on their side, because his parents were killed when he was a kid too. 

John never corrected him. He supposed you could argue that John’s mother had been sort of murdered by the drunk that had caused the car accident. But Jay’s mom? John had a lot of unkind thoughts about Catherine Todd. Father Reilly had talked to him about it, feelings that he’d take to his grave before ever revealing them to Jason because John had been relieved when she’d died. It meant that Jason might actually have a chance and get to be someone, free from the shackles of responsibility. No kid should have to take care of their parent like that. John would never forget how shocked and suspicious Jay had been when they met, a lonely ten-year-old defending and caring for his deteriorating mother. It hadn’t been Catherine’s fault really. She’d been genuinely sick and getting hooked on painkillers probably hadn’t been in her plan at all. However it had happened, she’d been unable or unwilling to bounce back and Gotham was a brutal place for the poor and weak.

And the less said about Willis Todd the better. Jason’s dad had gotten himself killed in prison, where he’d been sent for being exactly the kind of person who’d have shot John’s dad. Not that he had. That would have been too awful a coincidence.

The walk from the subway was fine, but the hike up the drive to the front door of Wayne Manor was something else. It was like being in a whole different world. The city fell away as they walked, the drive bracketed by massive trees, a grassy well kept lawn sprawling out in places. Even the sounds of the city were gone, muffled by the grounds and leaving only the crunch of their feet on the gravel drive and the sounds of the birds in the trees.

Jason rang the bell when they reached the door, grinning back at John. An honest to God butler answered.

“How may I help you, gentlemen?” the butler asked, with a British accent even.

“Uh-” John stepped forward, knowing Jason’s manners wouldn’t get them anywhere. “May we please speak to Bruce Wayne?”

The butler graced them with a small smile, “I’m sorry. Mr. Wayne doesn’t take unscheduled calls. However, if you’d like to leave your names-”

“It’s about Batman,” Jason blurted out.

Shit.

The butler went still and blinked, “Perhaps you ought to come inside?”

Jason and John were led into a room with tall windows and fancy couches. Lots of expensive looking stuff. It was the sort of place where you were afraid to touch anything. 

“Please wait here.” The butler closed the door behind him.

“See?” Jason grinned and threw himself down on one of the couches. A settee? John wasn’t sure. It made him wince anyway. 

John scanned the room, taking in the lush furnishings and eventually chose to investigate the globe in the corner.

They weren’t left waiting long.

“Boys,” Bruce Wayne greeted them with a smile when he entered, the butler following behind him. Jason scowled.

“We’re not kids.”

“My apologies, gentlemen. I’m Bruce Wayne, as you clearly already know. And you are?”

“John Blake and Jason Todd.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Now, what’s this I hear about Batman?”

“You can stop,” the words were out of John’s mouth before he could really think about it. “I mean, you don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Um, the smiling and the- I mean, we know. That you’re Batman.” 

Jason nodded along with John emphatically, “We’re not going to tell anybody.”

Mr. Wayne stared at them for a long moment. What was he thinking? John would have given anything to know. It was a big thing to ask, for him to trust a couple of teenage boys with a secret that could destroy everything he had. John wouldn’t blame him for being suspicious.

“Master Bruce-” the butler began, but Mr. Wayne waved him off.

“It’s fine, Alfred,” he said, and crossed the room limping slightly. Mr. Wayne sank down onto one of the chairs and sighed. John could see the calm welcoming mask slide off his face, leaving only weariness behind.

He wasn’t angry. John knew anger. No, this was sadness and frustration and... something else he couldn’t quite name.

“Are your parents here?”

“No. We’re from St. Swithins.” John caught the man’s eyes as they flicked up to his face. Regret. That’s what it was. Regret.

“There is no more Batman,” Mr. Wayne finally spoke.

“What? Because of some stupid cops?” Jason thumped his fist against the side of the couch. “Or the dumb lawyer-”

“Harvey wasn’t-” Mr. Wayne snapped, his harsh words interrupting Jay. He cut himself off just as sharply though, taking a breath and running a shaking hand through his hair. “Harvey didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

“But you didn’t- Batman didn’t do the things they say.” John was sure of that now.

“No.”

“Then why? Why did you let them think you did?” He didn’t understand it. Batman was a hero. He’d brought hope to the city and actually done something about the crime families that had lorded over everyone else. It made no sense.

“It’s complicated,” he held up a hand to stall John’s questions. “It was for the best. Whatever the cause, Batman is gone.”

John couldn’t make out Mr. Wayne’s expression, his face tilted low. The butler, Alfred, stood to the side of the door, gloved hands clutched tightly in front of him. John didn’t know what all had happened while the Joker had been on the rampage. It must have been bad. Worse for Mr. Wayne than just Mr. Dent’s death. But horrible things happened in Gotham every day and one thing was still clear in John’s thoughts.

“Gotham needs Batman.” 

“I’m not sure I agree.”

“So be something else!” Jay found his voice again, looking ready to burst. “They hate Batman? Fine. Let’em. Be someone else. Make a different suit.”

Mr. Wayne shook his head.

“Come on!” John winced at the way he pounded on the furniture again. Jason still hadn’t learned to leash his anger. John, on the other hand, was a lot better at pushing down and caging his. Someone had to be the more level-headed between them. “Just because things are getting better for the lawyers and cops, putting big name gangsters away, doesn’t mean it’s good for everybody, you know.”

“Jason grew up in The Bowery,” John answered Mr. Wayne’s confused glance. 

Not everyone in Gotham knew about The Bowery. The neighbourhood wasn’t labelled on any official maps. Located on the east side of UpTown, it wasn’t a place people wanted to know about, and if they did they’d rather forget.

“Yeah, so believe me, there’s a lot more than gang bosses and weirdos like the Joker out there hurting people.”

“I can’t,” Mr. Wayne said flatly.

“Fuck you!” Jason jumped to his feet, thrusting a finger at Mr. Wayne.

“Jay!”

“You won’t even try? You asshole. I thought you were better than... than...” Jay gestured wildly. Better than everyone, John supposed. Jay didn’t exactly expect the best of humanity.

Mr. Wayne slumped in his chair, “Well, maybe I’m not.”

“No shit,” Jason threw open the parlour door, slamming it into the wall.

“Wait!” Jay didn’t, ignoring him and storming out. “Dammit. Mr. Wayne, I’m sorry-”

“It’s all right, John.” 

But it clearly wasn’t. John’s eyes went to Alfred, who wore a polite smile on his lips even as he was frowning with concern.

“I’m still sorry. Thank you for talking to us. We won’t tell anyone. I promise.” John would have liked to say more, to hear whatever Mr. Wayne might have responded, but he couldn’t wait. He had to find Jason. 

John sprinted through the hall and out the front door, hoping that Jay hadn’t gotten too far ahead of him.


End file.
